Will my son be less anxious about attending a party if I tell him it’s a work event?

Unlike Boris Johnson, my son isn’t overly keen on parties.

Some children like nothing better than playing host at their own birthday bash, or joining in wholeheartedly at somebody else’s. I have been charmed by other people’s kids who are politely grateful for gifts they receive, or who get stuck in to musical chairs without worrying about whether they might win.

At the moment, however, my son is not a party lover. It has suited him to have a birthday that almost always falls within the Easter school holiday, and Covid restrictions over the past couple of years have provided an additional excuse not to have a big bash. He isn’t even very keen on having his parents and sister sing “Happy Birthday” to him.

When it comes to his friends’ parties, he is often just as reluctant, especially if they involve lots of people, or an activity he is uncertain about. At a recent one he had to overcome severe doubts about an adventure playground, and anxiety about Laser Quest meant we had to turn down an invitation just the other week. He is clearly torn between feeling relieved and sad now that he knows he won’t be going.

My daughter was less shy about other people’s parties and always wanted one of her own, though when she was small, she would often end up finding the attention overwhelming. We regularly found ourselves sitting on the sidelines with her, while her friends enjoyed the party games we had arranged.

There may be something to be said for the slightly more hesitant approach. There are, after all, plenty of children (and adults for that matter) who like to grandstand at their own party or take control of somebody else’s. Every parent will know the type of child who takes more than their fair share of cake, or tries to make off with two party bags, or won’t let go during pass the parcel. On balance, I’d rather mine were quietly miserable in a corner than ruining it for the rest by getting aggressive during musical statues.

At a birthday do of my daughter’s a few years ago, two little boys came to blows after a squabble erupted over who was sitting where at tea. At another one, a so-called friend tried to make off with a bunch of miniature My Little Ponies that we’d used to decorate the cake. Another stand-out memory is of taking my son to a party in a local village hall and witnessing some truly brutal goings-on over a runaway balloon.

Even when everyone behaves nicely, things can still take a dramatic turn. At the age of nine, my daughter and a friend had a shared swimming party, which involved various inflatable obstacle courses. As the kids lined up to take their turn at the side of the pool, one trod on a small piece of wire which had somehow been left lying about and which embedded itself in her foot. I ended up taking the poor child and her mother to the nearest urgent care centre to have it removed, returning to the party just in time to discover that the co-birthday girl had been taken ill and had had to go home.

Thankfully, my daughter is now at the age where big gatherings are not really the done thing. For her last birthday, she wanted to go with just one friend to Go Ape, a tree-top adventure activity, which would have been fine had either of them thought to bring the right clothes for a chilly November afternoon outdoors. At the point at which neither of them could speak without their teeth chattering, we decided to leave.

All in all, perhaps it’s little wonder my son isn’t wild about parties. They can be stressful, even traumatic experiences – and at his age there isn’t even the possibility of a glass of wine to take the edge off.

And yet it still seems a shame to miss out. So, when the next invitation arrives, I’ll reassure him that everything will be fine and encourage him to attend – you see, son, it’s not actually a party at all, merely a work event. And like the prime minister, he’ll be unable to resist.